


The Perfect Incubus

by misssampo



Category: Seduce Me (Visual Novel)
Genre: Brotherly Love, But Please be careful if this could trigger you, Consensual Sex, Erik please love yourself, Erik's life was not quite as tame as his flashback made it out to be, F/M, Flashbacks, It does end nicely, Mika certainly does, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Parental Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre and Post Seduce Me, Recovery, Self-Blame, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 01:44:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8729761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misssampo/pseuds/misssampo
Summary: Trained from the begining to become 'The Perfect Incubus' by this mother, Uzearis has to develop  ways to cope with his training as it progresses. Though it comes back to haunt him once he has left the demon world behind, and has love with the human who shelters his family...





	1. Support/Retribution

**Author's Note:**

> Big Thanks to ErlenmeyerKat, who inspired me to give Erik another look as see him more than just "The Flirty Type."

The demon's back arched, her grip on his horns tightening as she pulled his mouth closer. The sensation sent pleasure spiking through him, clashing with the pain of the woman's cloven hooves pressing into his back hard enough to bruise. His knees were sore from kneeling on the stone floor, his tongue ached from the constant movement. But his partner was not satisfied yet. And his mother had directed him to continue until his partner said they were done.

It was not his place to dictate his partner's pleasure, after all.

The woman's hips rolled into his mouth, praises punctuating her moans and shrieks of pleasure.

“So good... Such a good incubus... So eager to please m- Ah, Ah~!” She was reaching another peak. He had lost count of how many he had brought her to. How long he had been kneeling while his mother and anyone who walked down this corridor watched him work. After the demoness had made it clear that climaxing once was not enough to satisfy her, he had started a mantra.

'Next one. After this one she'll be done, just make her peak one more time...' Her fingers tightened on his horns, thighs quaking under his fingers. Her hooves dug in all the tighter, and Uzaeris could not smother the moan of pain as the sharp edges dug into the developing bruises.

His moan must have pushed her over the edge, because in the next moment she was screaming and shivering under his hands and mouth. Uzaeris worked her through her pleasure, daring to hope that she was done. Some deity must have been pleased enough to smile upon him, because just as she was starting to come down and he started his coaxing her up again, she pushed him away.

He resisted the urge to bolt to his feet when she let go, remembering that his mother was still watching. Judging his first performance.

So he rose slowly, elegantly, tossing his head so his long bangs briefly revealed his hidden eye and giving his lips a lascivious lick when the woman looked up at him. She chuckled and slipped off the window sill she had been seated on, smoothing her dress back around her thighs and running her fingers through her short hair.

“As much as I would _love_ to feed you more, I have duties to attend to. I trust that you are satisfied, however~” Her grin was nothing short of lewd, and he matched her for it with a throaty chuckle, while his exhausted tongue swiped over his lower lip again. All he could taste was this woman, who he had known for a week, if that. She was all over his mouth and chin, her bruises on his back, the memory of her fingers around his horns. If he was never between her legs again, it would be too soon.

“ _Exceedingly so...”_ He purred, watching her shiver at his voice. Her fingers reached out and dragged nails down his back as she left him, pressing into the marks her hooves left. He prayed that she- and the small audience that had gathered to watch- took his shudder to be one of arousal, instead of disgust.

Once the sound of her hooves faded away, a spirit drifted into sight from around an archway. The crowd scattered, instantly with something to do or someone just around the corner they had to speak to. The spirit, red as blood or a lover's flush, floated straight to Uzaeris and hovered around his eye level.

“Well enough for your first attempt. Though next time, be more vocal. Let your partner know that you have never tasted anything better than them. And do keep up consistency, I saw you slowing down towards that last one.”

“Thank you mother. Of course mother.” He bowed his head in deference, lifting a hand to properly cleanse his face. Red light glowed off his red tainted hands, but even magically clean he could still taste the woman. As he lowered his hand, he saw that it was shaking. His whole body was trembling, but his mother either did not notice or did not care to mention it as she drifted back down the corridor.

“Come, I want to hear your new piece. After that, I know of a few courtiers you can practice pleasuring.” Uzaeris' stomach lurched. Again?! After how long that woman had kept him between her thighs?

“Mother...” He tried to think up an excuse. Some lie that would give him at least a day of respite.

“What?” She snapped, stopping abruptly. He knew he had to tread carefully, but sick was rising in his throat at the thought of going through it again. Being on display again, used as an instrument of pleasure for who knew how long, for however many woman his mother deemed necessary...

“I... I can't-” He cleared his throat, trying to keep up his composure. “I need-”

“What could you possibly need Uzaeris? That deer woman gave you more than enough energy, and I know you've eaten today!”

“Well, I- Couldn't I have some time to myself? You said I did a good job-”

“I said you did well enough, not good. To be _good_ , you need practice, which you will get before the day is out. Now come-!” His stomach heaved, and he ran. Dodging around servants and weaving around corners, while his mother's screams- ordering him to come back- faded behind him.

...

He ended up hunched over in a dark corner, emptying the contents of his stomach and shakily wiping bile off his lips when the sickness finally subsided. He would go through hell once his mother found him again, but until then all he wanted to do was curl up someplace dark and nurse a skin of wine, or anything that would get the bitter taste of vomit and the memory of that woman out of his mouth-

“Uzaeris?” Fingers tapped his shoulder, quick and hesitant. He knew who it was before he even turned around. Izroul, his youngest brother, his black incubus markings making his legs and arms fade into the shadowy room. The shadows made his eyes look black as well, and Uzaeris let Izroul study his body and listen to his thoughts without comment.

His mind was his only true sanctuary, and he would much rather accept that Izroul would always know what went on than try and put up barricades against it.

After a few moments, his youngest brother took him by the hand and pulled him into a gentle hug, patting his back while avoiding where the woman's hooves had been. The bruises were gone- healed by the abundance of energy she had given him- but Izroul could hear in his head where he remembered them being. Uzaeris let his brother hold him while he trembled, and after a few minutes Izroul eased away from him, whispering in his quiet voice,

“I'll be right back.” He left the room, and after a few minutes, ducked back in and took Uzaeris by the hand, guiding him out of the room and into the bustle of the castle. Servants and passers-by stared as they passed, but nobody bothered to stop the second eldest, even if he was in the company of his father's bastard.

Izroul wove them both through the castle's occupants, stopping in an emptier area close to the library. Everyone knew to be quiet around here, for the heir was surely studying inside and was never to be disturbed.

Aomaris, the brother after Uzaeris, was leaning against a wall, scowling at the few who passed him by. His hands were tainted with blood as well as the green of his markings, his lip split and face bruised. He saw Izroul approach first, and greeted him much louder than anyone would dare speak in this wing,

“Hey Izroul! Whatever you need this for, you owe me big time. Dad's gonna mount my horns over the throne if he sees me aga-” Something in Uzaeris' face made him pause, and he offered a wine skin with his traditional lack on tact. “What happened to you? You look like shit, Uzaeris.” Izroul took the skin without responding, pulling the cork and pushing it into Uzaeris' hands.

He caught a hint of the scent- heavy with cloves and other sharp spices- before he gulped down the drink, hardly pausing to breathe.

“Damn. What the hell happened to him?” Izroul looked to Uzaeris, who was still tipping back the skin.

_Don't tell him._ He thought, silently pleading. _I'll be fine, and you know nobody can do anything to stop this. Please, just don't say anything. It will only make him mad._ Izroul sighed, and did as he was mentally asked. At both of his brothers' silence, Aomaris threw up his hands and growled,

“Fine! See if I do errands for you next time!” But he stayed close scowling at any servant who lingered too close, until Izroul quietly warned Uzaeris of his mother's approach. Aomaris, grumbling about being owed a favor, took the empty wine skin from his older brother and walked away with his youngest, badgering Izroul for answers to no avail. Izroul kept glancing over his shoulder, watching his brother with concern clear on his face until the two turned a corner and out of sight.

Hands steady, mouth thick with the flavor of wine, Uzaeris prepared himself for his retribution.

 


	2. Help/Punishment

It _was_ hell when his mother found him again, but he considered himself blessed that she didn't make him _practice_ until the next morning. She kept a much tighter grip on him however, so he had to learn quickly to swallow down his sickness and ignore the lasting taste of women who were often strangers to him. His mantra kept him sane as he was shuffled from woman to woman, to refine his technique.

'Just one more, and then it's over. One more left and then you'll be done for today...'

Until his mother was pleased enough with his ability to service women, that she ordered him to kneel and serve a man. Several men, throughout the day, each one followed by a list of pointers by his mother and a servant always hovering a bit too close, in case he tried to run.

When she finally left him alone to rest, Uzaeris stole the wine himself, and drank and drank until he was sick, then continued to drink until he was staggering through the night-dark corridors, one hand dragging on the stone wall and his body writhing with memories.

His throat still burned, his jaw still ached, his scalp still hurt where one of the men had yanked on his bangs until tears were pulled from his eyes. No matter how many times he rubbed his horns, he could swear that there were grooves worn into them from where he had been grabbed and handled. His face and hair still felt filthy, even with several magical cleanings.

One of the later men hadn't been _pleased_ enough watching Uzaeris swallow around him, and wanted to see him with his face and bangs defiled.

The floor tilted between one step and the next, and Uzaeris half fell into someone. He tried to apologize, but was unsure if all the words came out as he tried to focus on who he ran into. All he could see was a blur of royal blue markings and black curls, a round face coming in and out of focus.

Zecearu, the second youngest, last of their father's true born children.

“Uzaeris, what happened to you?!” He tried to laugh, to smile and be charming as he was always supposed to be. What came out instead was a raw, choked voice.

“Drinking.”

“Yeah, I can smell that. Did you fall in a wine barrel?” Now his attempted laugh resembled a sob more than anything else, and when he tried to take a step the floor failed him again. Zecearu swore as he tried to catch his older brother, struggling to hold up Uzaeris' long, limp frame. After managing to drape Uzaeris over his back and avoid either of them being stabbed by each other's horns, Zecearu lifted a hand. On his palm, between one moment and the next, he made a butterfly out of seemingly thin air. Uzaeris watched the little creation open and close its parchment colored wings, curling markings the color of ink scrawled across them. The new thing lifted out of its maker's hand, who called after it,

“Get him to hurry, he's really heavy!” Once the messenger had flitted around a corner, Zecearu readjusted his grip on his brother and started to haul him down the hall. Uzaeris let himself be dragged, listening to his brother grumble and curse him between labored breaths.

He didn't even have the strength to look up when he heard footsteps come around the corner. A pair of bare feet, tainted gold, stepped up to them.

“What in the five worlds..?”

“Raestrao, help!” The eldest, the Crown Prince, to the rescue...

Uzaeris felt himself being lifted, his arms draped over another, broader pair of shoulders. His brothers talked to each other while they dragged him down the corridor, the words meaningless in his ears. He was laid down on a bed, sharp amber eyes framed by sharper golden horns hovering in front of him.

“Rest. I hope you have enough energy to deal with the hangover tomorrow...”

When he finally roused himself from the semi-conscious haze the wine left him in, Raestrao was reading at his desk. Uzaeris tried to sit up, but the movement made his head pound like his father's war drums. He must have made some noise of distress, because the fluttering of pages stopped and Raestrao rose from his chair.

“Well, do you want to tell me _why_ you decided to drink yourself into oblivion? None of us can get anything out of Izroul...” Uzaeris mumbled for Raestrao to have patience, and let his energy ease away the pain.

Muffle the pounding. Clear his mind. He had more than enough to spare, after yesterday's training session...

“It's nothing any of you can help me with...”

“Nothing at all?” Raestrao crossed his arms, frowning down at him. Uzaeris swept his legs off the bed and stood, scowling up at his older brother.

“No. It has to do with my mother.”

“Oh...”

Their mothers were forbidden ground between the brothers. Against their father, they could support each other, or at least repair the damage once his blows moved to a different target. But every son's mother was his own territory, and none of the succubi would stand for the sons of the Demon Lord's other wives interfering in their business, even in the spirit forms they were now trapped in. Even Izroul's late mother- a harem girl until she had decided that she could not bear that horrible life another day- had been completely untouchable while within the Demon Lord's jealous shadow.

Raestrao took a small step back, eyes flickering for a moment before he placed a hand on Uzaeris's shoulder.

“Is there anything I can do to help you right now..?” His tone had softened, his brow pinched in worry. Uzaeris tried to look away, but Raestrao tucked a finger under his chin and met him eye to eye. Slowly, Uzaeris felt a weight lift off him. He leaned into a brief hug from his brother, and mumbled.

“Not at the moment, but I may take up that offer later.”

“You are always free to do so Uzaeris...”

They stood in that comforting embrace for a few heartbeats, until someone timidly tapped on the door. The brothers separated, Raestrao stepping up to the door, and Uzaeris stepping to the side to be out of view in case the door had to be opened.

“Who is it?”

“Izroul...”

Raestrao immediately opened the door, Uzaeris stepping back into view. Izroul was fidgeting with his hands, eyes darting side to side as he listened to the minds surrounding him. A low hum was signaling the castle coming back to life, the demons inside rousing from their rest to continue their lives and work.

Izroul got straight to the point as soon as he knew he had their attention.

“ _He's_ mad that more wine got stolen from the kitchens, and is looking for Aomaris. He's hiding right now, but I don't know how long-”

“I understand Izroul, thank you for telling us.” Raestrao straightened imperceptibly, eyes flickering as he ran through plans to keep their brothers out of their father's reach. “Can you help Aomaris stay out of his sight? I'll try to keep his attention until this runs its course.” Izroul nodded once, head shifting to Uzaeris as he tried to think up a way he could help. He owed Aomaris that much, being the cause of both thefts.

“Your mother isn't looking for you yet.” Izroul answered, just as the question formed in his mind.

“Good. I'll see if I can spread some rumors about other thieves in the kitchens. It might help pull his attention away from Aomaris if you can't keep him occupied, Raestrao.” Within his mind, he asked that Izroul pass an apology on to their brother, and a reassurance that this wouldn't happen again. Izroul nodded slightly and silently slipped down the corridor, towards wherever Aomaris had taken temporary refuge.

Uzaeris bid a brief goodbye to Raestrao, and wished him luck with their father before he slipped through the quieter corridors, moving towards the busier parts of the castle.

As the noise of the castle's occupants grew louder, Uzaeris gathered himself. Formulating rumors and stories to spread, complements to pay and flattery to convince others to listen to his tales. When he entered one of the main halls, he felt his courtly, elegant manner slip onto him.

As easily as one puts on a mask.

 


	3. Love

As she tumbled backwards onto her bed, Erik let his glamour slide away, showing his human love, his princess, his true form. She had seen his demon form before- had seen all of his brother's in their natural state through visions of the past as they explained their story- but never in person. Her fingers reached up, and he leaned over her so she could trace the patterns his marks made on his chest. She took in his form with a soft wonder, fingers gliding over his skin as she whispered,

“Beautiful... Erik, _Uzaeris..._ ” Shivers raced down his spine when she spoke his true name, magic flaring between them. “You're so beautiful...” She cooed, pushing herself up onto her forearms. He met her in a kiss, hands framing her face as her's traveled up into his hair. Her fingers were exceedingly gentle on his horns, like butterfly kisses flitting over the curves and dancing in and out of his hair. Every touch sent thrills of pleasure through him, his princess giggling at the soft gasps and groans her touch pulled from him. Her giggles became moans, sweeter than any music Erik had ever heard, when he cast his enthrallment on her.

The house was empty, his brothers out for the night at his request. Giving them the opportunity to fill the evening with as much _music_ as they cared to. Grinning at the very thought and dizzy with love, his eyes lit with a soft gold. Twin candle flames to light the dim room and dance over her body as her clothes were stripped away. Erik hummed as he took to his knees after his eyes had their fill, hands gently sliding down her sides and resting on her hips. His eyes glanced up to meet hers, silently asking her if she was comfortable, before his lips pressed against the top of his princess' thighs, first one and then the other.

“My princess, _my love,_ let me pleasure you...” Her face flushed as she looked down at him, shifting her legs apart so he would have room.

“If you want to...”

“Oh, I do princess...”

She arched, her cry of pleasure when his tongue touched her a note he never wanted to stop hearing. He worked with a passion, chasing every glorious sound she made and reveling in every undulation of her body.

This was bliss, hearing his love, knowing that it was only them and their pleasure in this room. Nobody to judge him, or stare as he was _used_ for someone else's satisfaction. They shared their pleasure, both eager to please each other, despite a lingering shyness that hung about any of her offers.

He had been her first, and although he had so little left to himself, he had managed to give her what was left of his innocence in return. His innocence, his true name, and now his true form were her's. She had even seen a vision of the lighter parts of his mother's training, and she still had proclaimed her love for him. Still gave him her heart, and held his so gently in return.

He did not deserve to have such a magnificent woman in his life. Did not deserve to have her crying out his name, human and true, while her fingers reached down to brush over his horns and her heels pressed into his back as his ministrations brought her higher-

Her fingers were squeezing around his horns, right at the base where they left his head to curve down and follow his jawline and it felt _so good_ , but not enough to mask the pain of her hooves in his back or how sick he was feeling.

His tongue worked faster, his fingers pressing into the woman's thighs as he pushed her to her climax. He groaned and panted as he worked, remembering what his mother told him about being vocal when giving someone pleasure. She would be angry if he forgot, if he did not improve.

The woman screamed as she reached her peak, and Uzaeris started his prayer, his mantra, that this was the last one. Again and again he made her scream, begging that each one would be the one where she would push him away. That he could get up and find a dark place to curl up on himself, and try to magically clean the taste out of his mouth because if he stole wine again Aomaris would be in trouble-

“Oh god, Uzaeris!” How did she know his name?! Nobody besides family should know his true name- What had his mother done?! “... I love you, I love you so much...” She let go of his horns, sitting up and trying to catch her breath. “Here, please. Let me- Where are you going?!”

He did not remember bolting from the room, only heaving over the toilet and trying to control his shaking as the fit of sickness retreated, and horror started to creep in as he remembered where he was.

That was his _love_ he had fled _,_ not some demon woman his mother had thrown him to! What must she have thought, him running off to be ill right after he pleasured her? She was going to think he was disgusted by her, _she_ was going to be disgusted by _him,_ oh god what had he done?! Couldn't he have pushed through it? He had done it before when his mother had him practicing on several demons a day and there wasn't time for him to run off and hide-

“Erik?” He looked over his shoulder, shame burning into him when he saw the mix of hurt and worry on his princess' face. She had pulled on a robe, hugging herself to keep it closed as it was missing its sash. He wanted to say something, to apologize for being unable to keep himself composed, but his stomach lurched and he was bowed back over the bowl, brought to his knees vomiting up bile and whatever was left of their dinner.

When he had nothing left to give and was swallowing against the burning in his throat, he noticed that his bangs had been pulled back, out of harms way. She was kneeling besides him, holding back his hair and rubbing tender circles into his back. His heart swelled unexpectedly at such a gesture, making his transgression all the more potent. How could he put such a perfect woman through what she must be going through now? Having to watch your lover be sick after he had used his mouth on you, and still have it in your heart to pull back his hair, and rub his back...

“Feeling better?” She asked, letting his bangs fall back into their usual place. He nodded, placing trembling hands in his lap and averting his gaze. How could he even start to apologize, to explain to her what had happened without her being so disgusted by him that she never wanted him in her bed or in her heart again?

She moved first, pressing a kiss into his temple and whispering,

“I'll be right back.”

After a minute, she came back holding a glass and a hand towel. Erik eagerly drank when she filled the glass in the bathroom's sink, taking the wrung out towel when she offered it and pressing the cool, damp cloth to his face. She waited and watched as he filled and drained the glass a few more times, before asking with a tremor in her voice that broke his heart,

“That... It wasn't me, was it? Did I do something, or...”

“No! No, princess, of course it wasn't you! You are perfect my love, that was all my fault, please forgive me I never meant to- What you must think of me- I'm so sorry-!”

“Uzaeris!” He stiffened at his true name, and realized when she took the empty glass from him that he was about to drop it, the trembling had gotten so violent. “Your fingers are freezing...” She murmured, cupping his hand in both of hers and pressing warm kisses into his fingertips. When he dropped the towel on the counter, she took that hand as well, her breath warm and kisses soft.

For several moments she kissed and nuzzled his incubus tainted hands, then her arms slipped around him and pulled into an embrace he gladly accepted. He buried his face in her hair, holding her a little tighter when she asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shuddered at the idea of confessing, of seeing the revulsion in her face when he revealed to her just how tainted he truly was. Stroking up and down his back, she reassured,

“Alright, alright. It's alright Erik. You don't have to tell me. I just want to know... Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“... Hold me... Just a little longer...”

“Of course. As long as you want me to, my love...”

When they finally separated, her eyes were bright with an idea. With a shrug of her shoulders, her robe slipped off and pooled on the tile.

“How does a shower sound?”

“That sounds magnificent, princess. Thank you...”

He brushed his teeth, while she started the water and hung her robe on the doorknob. As the bathroom filled with steam, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. This was where she had confessed her love, when the demon world had come back to haunt him in the form of a succubus. She needed one of the Demon Lord's heirs to cement her claim to the throne, and who better than the one who had been trained his whole life to serve the future queen? But his princess stood by him, boldly proclaiming her love and giving the succubus no ground. When the succubus left in defeat, they had shared a shower, and later her bed for the first time.

The shy, knowing smile she had when she pulled him into the warm spray told him that she was reliving the same memories. They twined together under the hot water, reveling in the feel of each others' bodies and both of them finding pleasure at their lover's hand. When it became an effort to stand, she used the remaining hot water to fill the tub, and they reclined together among kisses and whispers of love.

There, he started to confess. Slowly, hesitantly. She was nothing but sympathy and tenderness, asking what she could do the next time they made love to keep any bad memories from surfacing. Insisting that if he ever had such memories surface, he stop and tell her, instead of pushing through as his training demanded. Asking without any dissatisfaction if he would prefer not to use his mouth on her, since the action was linked to such a horrible part of his past.

In the end, he requested that she not push her heels into his back whenever he was between her legs, and that she be gentle when handling his horns. She agreed at once, assuring him over and over that she loved him, and kissing away his tears of relief when it sunk in that she _did not_ hate him for his past.

They fell asleep curled under her covers, dry by his magic and clutching each other close to preserve the warmth of their soak. In her dreams, he visited her, enfolded her in his arms and letting the peace of sleep keep them. And in the morning, Izoul, now Damien, slipped up to give him a tight hug and whisper,

“I'm glad... You deserve someone kind like her...”

And Erik was finally starting to agree with him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatever the circumstance, if you have been a victim of sexual assault, it is NEVER your fault. You are a strong survivor, who is wonderful, cherished, and Never any less because of what some horrible person did to you, or made you do. My dearest thanks for reading, and all my love.


End file.
